In lieu of a list

Many birders keep lists of the birds they have seen; I don't. Half the time, I don't know what it was I saw, just that it was beautiful; half the time, I only saw a smidgen of bird, anyhow. Was that a wren? Or a sparrow? Or maybe a mouse?

My lists would be made up of "maybes". So I am sure that the black-headed grosbeaks we saw on Sunday were not lifers; I'm sure I must have seen some before. I just didn't know what they were. Now I do, and I know what their song is like; "a drunken robin", says my guide book, and that describes it perfectly. Next time, I'll actually remember! (Thanks to Hugh, who does know these things.)

So here are two grosbeaks, and a handful of other delights from Sunday's outing at Reifel Island, in no particular order:

Black-headed grosbeak at a feeder. Male.

Another one, overhead.

Brown-headed cowbird.

A manky mallard, or just a male losing his breeding plumage?

Silverweed

Reflections in shallow water, with bird seed.

This Canada goose was standing guard near a large gathering of goslings and parents.

I love those "socks"!

Comfy

A mallard duckling struggling up a dusty bank.

Tree swallow atop his house.

Not a bird.

Wood duck pair. Look at that purple head!

Reflections in still water

Fluffy cattails

Sparrow. House, I think.

Cedar waxwing. I cheated here; in the original photo, the top of its crest was cut off. I cloned the bit that was missing, plus some leaves for the background.

Cow parsnip, against the light.

We missed seeing the sandhill cranes; one of the paths is barricaded, because they are raising their families in that area. We'll have to go back soon, to see the chicks when they start wandering.

Meeting old friends for the first time

Yesterday afternoon, Laurie and I met two other local bloggers at Reifel Island, people whose blogs I have been reading and commenting on for years, but we hadn't met them in "Real Life". (As if the web weren't real; it most definitely is.)

We were late; Hugh, of Rock, Paper, Lizard, and Tim (Think Big ... no, even bigger) were waiting for us at the entrance. I knew them instantly, even though I'd never seen a photo, unless you can count Tim's avatar of a head of hair with a red crab on top. He wasn't wearing the crab at Reifel.

We had a great time, walked and talked for two hours. Hugh was really helpful; he identified birds by their song, something I could never do, and then, with all four of us looking, we spotted quite a few birds I would have missed. Tim has some photos up on his blog already. I'll post most of ours tomorrow.

For now, here we are:

Me, Hugh, and Tim. With squirrel on the path. Laurie`s photo.

A curious swallow, at home.

Tim and other visitors watch manky mallards. I think that glorious tree is an oak.

Hawthorn blossoms.

The rest of the photos will wait. I`m half asleep at the computer already. G`night!

Worth the work

A marine invertebrates aquarium needs babying; the ocean the residents come from is a complex environment, always changing, always refreshing itself, always in motion. They won't tolerate stale or quiet water or boring food.

I have a routine; I check and adjust the water pump daily, check the temperature and lighting, and add an appropriate amount of foodstuffs, taking care to vary the diet as much as possible. Every second day, I clean the filter, replace about an eighth of the water with fresh sea water, and remove large chunks of leftovers. As needed, I re-arrange or replace the plantings and playground equipment (large curvy shells, clumps of barnacles and/or mussels, stones); the crabs are constantly uprooting, tunneling, rock-flipping, sometimes to their own disadvantage.

Tiny hermit up a eel-grass and sea lettuce "tree".  All the ambulatory critters love these.

At least once a month, I call it low-tide day*; drain out most of the water, remove the animals and seaweeds, scrub the algae off the inner walls, and rinse the sand beneath. The first rinse water comes out thick with decaying plant matter. I always have to check it carefully and run it through a filter (coffee) to see if any of my critters got washed out with it. There are usually a few amphipods and plenty of copepods. Barnacle and anemone food, on the hoof. I put them in clean water and return them to the tank when I'm done.

Some of the animals, yesterday, refused to leave the filter. They ran around the bottom, holding on, not swimming like amphipods do. They were almost transparent, and too small to see clearly; what I was seeing was the way the light glinted off their wet bodies. I had to swish them around in the water to dislodge them, then shake the filter to get them out. Interesting.

But I was busy, so I set them aside until the aquarium was full again, and then poured them all in.

Later, my work finished, I was checking the leftover rinse water before I dumped it, and another of these beasties turned up in the filter. This time, I went for the magnifying glass. And it was a hermit crab! I've never seen one so tiny.

Newborn greenmark hermit, not wearing a shell  yet. About 2 mm. long.

I had noticed some mating behaviour in the tank, earlier. Male hermit crabs choose a female, and hold onto her, sometimes for days, until she consents to mate.** I'd seen a couple of adult greenmarks dragging occupied shells around; it's springtime, after all. But I never expected anything to come out of it, not in my small tank. But here they were; a whole family of baby hermits!

Green shore crab with rider.

Here's a tiny one, walking on the pincer of a green shore crab. I saw this guy for the first time last week, and wondered how he got here. Now I think I know. He's much bigger than yesterday's babies already.

"Got my eye on you." Greenmark hermit with the crab's eye in the background. The crab is about 1/2 inch across the shell.

*I know; the ocean does it twice daily. I'm not an ocean.
**See two previous posts on mating hermits: "A friend for Boy Blue" and "Little Bo-Peep is fast asleep".

Hermits bred in captivity!

Story tomorrow; I've been up all night watching them.

Newborn greenmark hermit.

Now I'm probably too excited to sleep. Goodnight, anyhow.

Eyes green as grass

I met this cat in a Strathcona alley. His eyes looked like holes in his head; I could see the grass beyond.

And he's wearing a red heart tag.

Mystery beastie: still a bit mysterious

So, what did that "Hairy Butt" (Thanks, Dawn!) belong to?

"Spiky"

Thanks for guessing, y'all! And Slaadi got as close as I could, identifying it as a Blow-fly, or Calliphorid.

The clue that identifies it as a fly is the pair of halteres: look between the belly and the last pair of legs; see the two little yellowish balls on stems? Those are what flies have instead of the second pair of wings. Other flying insects, like bees and wasps, for example, have two pair.

How Slaadi decided on blow-flies, I don't know. I had the same opinion, but I had an advantage; I'd seen the whole fly. It looked, from where I could see it on my window, like one of the black and blue flies that hang around our rhododendrons:

It sort of looked like this.

So, Slaadi; tell us. What did you see that said, "Calliphorid", rather than "Muscid", or something similar?

I've sent the photo in to BugGuide. I don't know if they can do any better, with just an underbelly. But I've been surprised by them in the past; they're amazing!

Just for fun

Here's a mystery critter; can you identify it?

"Spiky"

Hint: the photo was taken through two panes of glass.

Housing development

The southeast corner of Heatley and Pender in Strathcona is occupied by an old (1921) Jewish synagogue, a large building finished in grey stucco and tall, secretive windows. It's a quiet building. I have never seen anyone enter or leave; on the park side, lower, barred windows give shadowy glimpses of a plant on an interior balcony, a parked bike. There are three touches of colour on the façade; a layer of red brick at the bottom, terracotta tile roof inserts, and above the main doors, two additional rows of mossy tiles.

I passed the synagogue this morning, coffee in one hand, camera in the other. Even before I turned the corner, I could hear the building calling out, with the insistent voices of many sparrows. I narrowed the source down to those two rows of tiles; each one probably harbours another nest of hungry babies. Hungry and letting the world know about it.

This sparrow (Youngster? Almost adult? Unhappy adult?) was standing alone on a tile, complaining.

"Cheep, cheep!"

Welcome driving hazard

For once, I didn't mind driving with the sun in my eyes. (Usually, I gripe and complain until it gets out of the way.) But not this afternoon. I was on the highway, heading directly into the evening light, fumbling for my extra-dark sunglasses, when I noticed the sundogs. I parked on the narrow shoulder and took a series of photos through the windshield; the light burnt out the centre of them all, so I put my sunglasses on the camera instead.

Sun from Hwy. 91, about 7:30 PM, through dark sunglasses

A Skywatch post.

(I'm housesitting in Strathcona again, and struggling with their computer, so no more at the moment.)

All my fault

Laurie caught this spider and brought it to me in a pill bottle.

He hadn't noticed, but she was carrying her egg case, holding onto it even as she scrabbled frantically at the sides of the bottle. It was all too much for her, though; I was busy, and by the time I'd got around to releasing her, she was in such a panic that she dashed for freedom, leaving her family behind.

Sorry, little mother. Better luck next time!

Shady pool, cool dip.

White crowned sparrow, bathing before dinner:

We have been gardening, pruning, potting, rearranging garden tools, doing a spot of carpentry, and hanging new curtains and rods on the glass doors to the back yard. This sparrow and her (his?) mate got tired of waiting for us to go away, and splashed away happily a few yards from me.

And I am tired, tired, tired. And sore all over. I'm loading up on painkillers and going to bed. G'night, all!

Finders, not necessarily keepers.

Profit and loss on the White Rock beach:

"Look what I found! A whole fish!"

The taste test.

"Yes! It's fresh and cold and dee-licious!

"I'll take it."

"It's quite a mouthful!"

"Heavy! I am so going to feast today!"

Unfortunately, the size of the fish did him in. He took three tries to get airborne, but finally lumbered away with the fish dangling below him. Where the brown gull, flying fast, caught up and yanked the fish out of his grasp. The two raced off into the distance, with the thief ahead and the white gull wasting his breath cursing and screaming behind him.

We had to laugh.

RGB, in the sunlight.

The beach peas are blooming on White Rock beach!

Elegant veining in the flowers; look at it full size. 

I'm working on a couple (or three, possibly) videos, so blogging will be light for a few days.

Privacy issues

'Way up in the shadows above the boxes of lawnmowers at Home Depot, we saw these two pigeons:

"Was that a camera I heard?"

I surprised them in an intimate moment. The camera was too slow, but they didn't realize that.

They can mime "Offended" and "How dare you!" quite effectively.

Feisty!

This tiny crab spider came in my window this afternoon. It was a simple matter to catch her*; crab spiders rely more on immobility and camouflage than on running away. And she "hid" on my green rug.

Taking her photo was another story.

A brief pause

She is as sassy as a jumping spider, always wanting to keep her eye on me, always turning towards the camera. But where a jumper is curious, this one is challenging. However I shepherded her into the light, once I freed her, she turned immediately to attack, lifting her front legs in a threat stance and walking steadily towards me. I'd get her focused in the shallow field that the macro gives me, and have to back up, back up, back up some more, finally to lose her in the shadow under the lens and start again.

"I'm going to eat you!"

Not that there was any danger. She's barely an eighth of an inch long, nose to tail.**

I finally put her on a cloth draped over an ice pack. That slowed her down, although she still kept heading my way. Wanting to measure her (and sure she'd attack my fingers on a ruler), I tore off a piece of graph paper*** and set it beside her. She obligingly moved onto it; after all, the paper was between her and that tempting camera lens.

Well, thank you, little one. So helpful!

* Males have rounded or clubbed pedipalps, the two "feelers" at either side of her face. Females' (and youngsters', as Christopher pointed out in the comments) pedipalps are pointed.

** And crab spiders are harmless to humans, anyhow.

*** The squares are exactly 1/4 inch on a side.

She's in a tiny jar on my printer. Tomorrow, I'll put her outside to find her own breakfast. I don't think it will take her too long.

"Stinky Bob"

One more plant from the shoreline at Crescent Beach. Herb Robert, they call it.

Geranium robertianum

This grows anywhere it can get a foothold, and once it's established, it stays put. It's an introduced weed from Eurasia that is capable of holding its own even against our native ferns. It grows enthusiastically on rocks, in gravel, or in the cracks of cement, along stream beds or roadsides. We had it on a solid clay hillside near Mission, and I would rip out great armfuls of the stuff, only to find it growing back a week later.

It confused me at first, too. It's a geranium, related and similar to several other native and introduced weeds;
"consult technical manuals", says my Plants of Coastal BC. Herb Robert is variable; it has an "unpleasant odour", or not. It is hairy, and the hairs may be sticky. Or not. The flowers may be solid pink or purplish, or striped with white. It is quite pretty in the spring, with its fern-like leaves and shining flowers, but the whole plant turns orange-red as the summer heats up, until it is a tangled mass of straggly, hairy, red leaves and stems, with few or no flowers.

It can spray its seeds up to 20 feet. And they will sprout next spring, no matter where they landed.

Why "Robert"? Nobody seems to know. Or rather, everybody seems to know a different reason.  Or even a different name; there are over 100. I like "Dragonsblood"; it describes the dry-season colour perfectly.